


Melted Dreams

by MiracleDreamer



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Real Person Fiction, Youtubers
Genre: Death, Dreams, Gore, Its late and I started to self loathe, M/M, So i guess this is how i decided to cope, but i like it, im not sure tbh, im very sorry, kind of, this is all over the place, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracleDreamer/pseuds/MiracleDreamer
Summary: A canvas of red.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I thought of. I wanted to play with my words. And I'm just out of it right now. Sorry, my mind is all crummy right now because of this headache.

In the midst of it all, nothing could be seen. All Bryce knew was that he felt like he was thrown underwater, floating in past mistakes and regrets and chills of omens rattled his mind. He tried to open his eyes, yet it was as if someone glued his eyes closed, never to be used again. Tears threatened to spill, and he kicked, he yelled, he tore through the air mindlessly.

Nothing felt right.

He didn't know where he was. He couldn't even open his mouth to scream in frustration. All that passed through his lips were air bubbles, his mind a frenzy of panic and limbs fighting for their life. He was falling, falling deeper into an abyss made up of what he assumed is water and finally, he finally could open his eyes.

He fell onto concrete ground, cracked and ridden with mold and moss. Everything around him was peeling and leaking, eyes widening in bewilderment at the small stone room. He shakily stood up, hands shaky and breath ghosting in front of him. In one of his hands was a knife, a delicate knife that glistened and showed off his cloudy reflection. At the point, it dripped with an unusual substance, one he instantly recognized as blood. It was sticky, glossy and slowly traveling down the hilt and he screamed when it touched him.

It was warm.

Bryce was afraid. He wasn't sure what was happening, a flickering light above his head, the room stretching out into the vast and dark unknown instead of having the fourth wall he swore he saw a second ago. He sluggishly trudged along, body trembling and eyes wide with wild fear. He tried to call out, but his voice wasn't working, only croaks pouring out like a broken record.

When he touched the front of his neck, he could feel the sticky yet hardened blood and tattered flesh around it. A silent sob wracked through him, eyes brimming with tears. This was so disgusting, so horribly cruel. To think, his vocal chords were ripped out! Ripped out and such a miracle that he was still alive! He couldn't make any sense of it, paranoia settling in him like a deep brick in his chest, suffocating him and making him cripple to the ground. He wanted to give up, one hand still touching his hacked neck and nails digging in, tearing into the skin and blood pouring out, trying to heal him but Bryce couldn't take it anymore.

"BRYCE!"

He kept sobbing, chest heaving up and down and the scent of blood surrounding him, deep and intoxicating. Soon enough, a pool of the scarlet fluid surrounded him, the wound open and painful and Bryce couldn't think straight anymore.

"Bryce!"

A ringing in his ears made him perk up, his sobbing silencing slowly. Someone was calling his name, desperate and shaky. Bryce stood up, hands covering his neck. He took stumbling steps forward, a swirling mess of negativity coursing through his body. His body moved mechanical, eyes drooping and ever so slightly he would trip because he wasn't conscious of what he was doing.

He came to a small clearing, the scenery changing to snow fluttering around him. Bare trees loomed around him, the blood still dripping down and giving the colorless world a tinge of scarlet. Everything else was blindingly white or black or gray. The trees were black, the sky was a murky gray, the ground was covering in mountains of white snow, only tainted when Bryce would walk through it and his trail of blood would seep through it.

"BRYCE!"

There it was again. A lovely melody to his ears and he picked up his pace. The snow didn't stop him, even though he was freezing in his light jacket. He stood out, blond hair dirty, hands pale and red, shirt a bright purple and jeans clinging to his shaking legs. He was beacon in a world pronounced with no color, eyes scanning around and finally seeing the source of his interests.

"BRYCE!" It was Ryan, poor poor Ryan who was visibly shaking in the snowy landscape. Sweat accumulated on his brow and Bryce would have screamed if he could.

He was dying.

Bryce fell on his knees, eyes fearful and pained at what he was seeing. Ohm had a horrible injury, a slash at his stomach that would not heal with time. He was covering one of his eyes, red leaking out, a light pale of his skin mixing with a vibrant red. On one hand he lost two fingers, his pinky and thumb.

He was a dying canvas, draped in scarlet hues and dipped in a pale white. His clothes were the definition of a gray scale, the only stark contrast his wet brown hair and hazel eye that was slowly being snuffed out if its life.

Bryce reached to touch him, but Ohm flinched away.

"Run. Run far away, Bryce. I won't make it anymore. I can't." His words were stable but his bottom lip quivered. Bryce couldn't speak, only furiously shook his head.

"Listen to me Bryce, please. Run away now. I just want you to make it out alive." His smile was genuine but inside it lurked unease. He was scared, scared to die but Bryce wouldn't let him. He couldn't let him die.

He loved him.

"Bryce, I know you do." It was as if he read the young man's mind, eye glistening with unshed tears. "I love you too." He fell forward, Bryce catching him and holding him close to his chest.

He pulled Ohm's face out of his chest, a gasp slipping past his lips when he got a look at Ohm's other eye. It was mangled, the eyeball no longer there and instead a scar on its place. He started crying again, Ohm using the last bit of his strength to touch Bryce's cheek, hand freezing but warming at the same time.

He repeated his last words.

"Bryce, I love you."

Then the world went black.

* * *

 

When Bryce woke up in his head, he instantly reached for the side of his bed. The other hand made sure of his neck, which was perfectly fine.

The hand that reached for the other side didn't meet anything, a cold realization hitting Bryce in the late night.

He started to weep, hands coming to rub at his eyes furiously.

Ohm passed away years ago.

Sorrow and regret still clung to him, Bryce's dreams a manifestation of not being able to save his soulmate.

"I'm so sorry," Bryce moaned out, fingers resting on his cheek as he poured his heart out in the dark confines of his empty room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this.
> 
> Tumblr: fantasyeuphoriaandlace


End file.
